


Things We Can't Say

by KittyCargo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Art welcome, Blood, Distrust, Explicit Language, M/M, Minor Injuries, Podfic Welcome, Remus Lupin Fest 2020, Rough Sex, Secrets, Sex, Splinching (Harry Potter), do not repost to another site, no happy ending, remus lupin fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyCargo/pseuds/KittyCargo
Summary: "Remus looked at him, and it was the first time Sirius had felt seen in months. He’s seen people, seen James and Lily and Harry in the warm cottage in Godric’s Hollow, seen Peter in dingy bars, seen various Order members multiple times a week, but no one has really seen him in return. Remus’ eyes raked Sirius up and down, taking in every detail, and for one moment Sirius let himself imagine that maybe Remus had missed him as much as he had missed Remus."Prompt 18: Angst during the first war, based on being on opposite sides. Trying to convince them to join the light side maybe, or accidentally injuring each other or close friends of each other.Likes: Sexual tension, angry snogging
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58
Collections: Remus Lupin Fest 2020





	Things We Can't Say

**Author's Note:**

> I loved this prompt. I hope I did it justice.
> 
> I want to shout out an incredible beta reader, @thehufflebean (SevralShips) for her encouragement through several iterations of this story and cleaning up so many tense mistakes. I appreciate you so much!

Sirius’ heart had been beating a staccato rhythm against his ribs ever since he left Regulus on a bar stool at the pub where they occasionally met up. He’d been surprised to receive Reg’s owl asking him to meet, but he’d gamely agreed, although it was late by the time he had finished with work and Order business. It was almost midnight when Sirius arrived, and it wasn’t until after they had ordered drinks that Regulus had glanced around, despite it being a muggle pub, and in a quiet voice asked, “Have you seen your friend lately? The werewolf one?” Sirius’ heart had stuttered momentarily out of panic that Remus’ secret had been spilled, but then (his synapses firing a second behind the need that had been burned into him since he was 12, and he’d only failed — though a spectacular failing at that — once to keep Remus’ secret) but then his heart stopped completely because Regulus wouldn’t be asking about Remus unless something bad had happened.

It must’ve all shown on his face because Regulus didn’t wait for a response. “There’s been some unrest among the packs recently...infighting — you know how it’s common among half-breeds — but I heard someone had been killed yesterday, and I thought you should know…” Regulus trailed off, embarrassed at this display of brotherly affection, meager though it was and at any other time Sirius would feel loved and know that this was his brother’s way of keeping connections open despite their differences, but Sirius can’t feel anything at the moment except for all-consuming panic because he hasn’t spoken to Remus in months and _oh-God-what-if-Remus-is-hurt_ is the only thought left in his mind as he leaves Regulus alone at the bar and sprints out of the dingy pub to find a dark alley away from prying eyes from which he may apparate.

The world was spinning, but it might as well stop altogether if Remus was hurt because Sirius didn’t think — no, he knew — that he wouldn’t be able to go on without him. It’s been awful, these months of separation and silence between them following their argument, but at least there’d always been the possibility of reconnection, but if Remus was dead then their relationship died with him, exactly as broken as they’d left it. 

Finally the spinning stopped, and Sirius landed in the alley outside of Remus’ apartment, startling a raccoon who was digging through the trash as he rushed up the stairs to Remus’ shitty third floor apartment to bang on the door. He knew it was late; he knew he might wake the neighbors, but he had to know if Remus was alright. It felt like he was pounding on the door for hours, yelling for Remus to “ _open the fucking door right fucking now you fucking bastard_ ” when he finally heard the movement of locks being undone and the door opened a crack, the chain still attached, but Remus’ tired eyes peeked through and only then could Sirius breathe again.

“Hey Moony,” Sirius said, aiming for casual, as if he had just dropped by because he happened to be in the neighborhood. “I was wondering if I could come in?”

Remus shifted behind the door but didn’t unlock it further, and for the first time Sirius noticed Remus’ wand pointed at him through the crack in the door. “What was the prank that you and I pulled on James in fourth year that he always thought was Snape, and we never corrected him?”

“We dyed his hair Slytherin green. It was right after we made that spell to dye Snivellus’ red. James thought Snape had taken his revenge."

His heart sank when the door shut for a moment, but it reopened and he realized Remus had just been taking the chain off to let him come inside. Sirius stepped in and finally got a good look at Remus. He looked...awful. His eyes were baggy and tinted blue underneath, and Sirius felt a pang that he’d obviously woken Remus up. There was a pillow line creased into his cheek, and Sirius recognized the pajama pants that Remus’ mother had mended for him several times over and a T-shirt that had been hastily put on, backwards and inside out, the tag wagging under Remus’ chin. His soft brown curls were obviously sleep-mussed, and Remus dragged a hand through them with a wide yawn that he didn’t bother to hide. Sirius had to push away thoughts of putting his fingers in Remus’ pink mouth, of Remus’ gentle tongue sucking and laving, the sharp press of his teeth, and then Remus was saying something and Sirius was trying desperately to focus, but it was difficult because for three months all of his thoughts had been of Remus and now that Remus was in front of him, exhausted and unshaven, Sirius suddenly didn’t know what to say and found he could barely listen, could barely stand to be in the same room.

“Sorry, what?” Sirius stupidly replied.

“I asked why you’re bleeding,” Remus’ voice was still clear as he disappeared into his bedroom for a moment, reappearing in a dark green sweater. Sirius forced himself to look at Moony’s brown-green-gold eyes, not the small hole in the sweater that revealed a dot of creamy skin near Remus’ collar bone.

“Bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s smeared on your temple,” Remus made a gesture and Sirius mirrored it, reached up to find stickiness that he followed to the top of his ear, the tip of which was no longer rounded, but jaggedly flat, as if it had been sawed off by a dull knife.

As he stared at his blood-stained fingertips, understanding dawned. “I think I may have splinched myself.”

Remus looked at him, and it was the first time Sirius had felt seen in months. He’s seen people, seen James and Lily and Harry in the warm cottage in Godric’s Hollow, seen Peter in dingy bars, seen various Order members multiple times a week, but no one has really _seen_ him in return. Remus’ eyes raked Sirius up and down, taking in every detail, and for one moment Sirius let himself imagine that maybe Remus had missed him as much as he had missed Remus.

Remus just sighed. “I’ll put the kettle on for tea.”

Sirius luxuriated in Remus’ fussing over his ear, the way his magic made the hairs on the back of Sirius’ neck prickle, and the fact that Remus cleaned the wound with both a muggle peroxide potion that stung and a purple cleansing potion that stung _and_ smoked before casting a lilting _“Vulnera Sanentur.”_ Sirius could feel a slight tugging sensation as the skin gently knit itself back together, and then Moony’s warm hands weren’t touching him anymore, and Sirius couldn’t think of anything worse.

Sirius closed his eyes and listened to the noises of Moony making tea in the kitchen, the soft swish of the muggle refrigerator opening and closing, the creak of cabinet doors, the glug of the milk jug. Sirius could picture the way that Moony tugged his sweater over his hand to lift the whistling kettle off the hob instead of bothering with the hot pad, and for just a moment Sirius could imagine they’re in the kitchen that used to be _theirs_ before Remus moved into this dump, and the kitchen became just Sirius’.

There was the quiet _thunk_ of a ceramic mug being set on the wooden table in front of him, and Sirius opened his eyes to find a warm cup of a chamomile, lemon, and mint blend that Hope Lupin called “sleepy tea”, honey-sweetened and milky. Sirius breathed in the familiar smell, well acquainted with it from the nights he woke to an empty bed to find Remus writing or reading bleary-eyed at the kitchen table, a forgotten mug of lukewarm sleepy tea beside him. Sirius blew at the steam and took the smallest of sips to keep from scalding his tongue. Remus caught Sirius’ eye and raised his eyebrows.

“So?” Remus questioned.

“So,” Sirius returned.

Remus set down his mug, and his long fingers came to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Sirius, it’s one-o-clock in the bloody morning, and I was actually sleeping for once. I haven’t seen you in months, then you show up bleeding, banging on my door in the middle of the night. So, what the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

The way Remus emphasised “ _fuck_ ” showed Sirius that he still cared. He knew Remus. Knew the scars that littered his body, the soft spaces under his bony hips, and he knew that as long as there was still emotion in his voice, there was still a chance for them. 

Sirius took a deep breath, and for one horrible moment he could feel the steady beat of his heart, a constant rhythm of _love you love you love you_ instead of the _lub-dub_ it should have been. He swallowed the feeling down, pushed it into the spaces between his ribs, vaguely wondering why his ribs weren’t doing their supposed job of protecting his heart, and he forced himself to say something else.

“I’ve missed you.” It was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth.

Remus’ whole body softened, the tension in his shoulders and neck melted slightly, so slightly that if it were anyone else, anyone who knew Remus less they’d never have seen it. Remus always kept himself so tightly contained that most people never caught a glimpse of the real Remus, and Sirius’ heart beat louder and more insistently because he had the privilege of seeing the Remus the rest of the world never saw.

“I’ve missed you too, Sirius.” The smallest and saddest of smiles, and suddenly Sirius was up and out of his seat to kiss it away, kiss it into something brighter.

Remus let out a soft “ _oomph,_ ” but his fingers curled into Sirius’ hair and tugged, and Sirius felt more grounded and whole than he had in months. Although he grew up in a magical world, he had never known true magic until he’d felt Remus’ lips on his, Remus’ tongue in his mouth.

“Sirius…” Remus murmured, voice low and gravelly and unsteady, his warm hand burning through Sirius’ T-shirt as he pushed Sirius away gently, but there was no time for Sirius to truly despair at being pushed away because Remus’ fingers were wrapped around his wrist, pulling him down into Remus’ lap and it was like no time had passed, like they had never fought. And when Remus wrapped him into a tight hug it was like all the broken pieces of him were being held together to make something whole. They sat quietly for a few minutes, and Sirius could feel his body relaxing, his breaths evening, could hear Remus’ heartbeat and for a few minutes he allowed himself to imagine that it was answering _you too, you too, you too_ to his heart’s own beats. Finally, Remus shifted and the spell was broken, and Sirius dreaded the talk he knew they needed to have. He’d always been good at action, but it was Remus who had always been good with words, good at reading and writing, so he hoped that Remus would be able to read the feelings that must have been written all over his face and body, all over his heart.

“What happened, Pads?” Remus’ voice was quiet, but the use of the nickname made Sirius answer.

“I-I heard there’d been-” Sirius paused, searching for the right words, knowing how sensitive Remus would be to this discussion and tried so hard be his namesake — to tread lightly and softly when he was only taught to stomp, “an accident…with one of the werewolf packs, and I was worried about you.” Sirius didn’t need to lift his head to see Remus’ closed off expression, could feel the tension radiating off him immediately at the mention of the packs.

“Sirius, you know I can’t talk about it,” Remus’ voice was still quiet, but there was a storm brewing in his eyes, and it made Sirius feel electric, like the moment before a lightning strike. Remus pushed him off and picked up their mugs to dump out and rinse in the sink, clearly stalling and putting distance between them. Sirius knew how affected Remus must be to toss out perfectly good tea, had personally watched Hope lovingly rewrap leftovers and repurpose them throughout the week. Unlike the Blacks, the Lupin family rarely wasted food.

“Can’t talk about it? Or won’t?” 

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is trust! James and Lily talk about their missions with each other because they _trust_ each other!”

“James and Lily are married! You and I are-” there was a shuddering breath here, and Sirius realized that neither of them had ever put a name to what they were to each other. He wondered if they’d ever get that chance now. “You and I haven’t spoken in _months,_ and now you want to show up and talk about my business with the packs, without so much as a ‘hello,’ much less a fucking apology!”

“I’m sorry!” Sirius yelled, but it came out wrong, bitter in his mouth where Remus had just left sweetness. “I’m sorry that I hate the thought of my-my friend running with fucking murderers instead of with us once a month!”

“Murderers?” There was a heavy pause and Sirius found himself regretting his word-choice as Remus leaned against the counter and considered him, them, everything. “Maybe that’s where I belong then.”

Sirius swallowed, a lump in his throat at the thought of his Moony, his soft and gentle Moony with his warm hands and worn jumpers, tea-breath and chocolate fiend being lumped in with feral creatures like Greyback. “That’s not what I meant,” he started.

“Isn’t it?” Remus looked at him, and his eyes saw into Sirius’ soul, and it fucking hurt to be seen so clearly. “You want trust? How’d you know about the packs? I sure as hell didn’t fucking tell James or Peter or anyone else. So, how the fuck do you know?”

Sirius looked away from Remus’ eyes, unwilling to answer, but he heard Remus’ sharp intake of breath and knew that Remus had figured it out.

“How am I supposed to trust you when you’re still meeting up with your Death Eater brother?” Remus didn’t sound angry anymore, just tired and sad because now they were continuing the argument that they’d both carried with them for three months, an argument that was less about Regulus and far more about trusting that they were both still on the same side. Sirius didn’t have the words to explain that Regulus, for all his faults and misguided thoughts on blood-purity, was still his brother and wouldn’t betray them. There was no rationale for this belief, he just knew it, deep in his bones, the same way he knew that he would do anything in his power to protect James and Lily and Harry, the same way he knew that he would love Remus John Lupin until his very last breath. This knowledge both reassured and terrified Sirius, and it was that fear that made him lash out.

“At least I know where I stand with my Death Eater brother! But I never know where I stand with Greyback’s lapdog!” And as soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them, regretted them like he regretted the shitty prank he’d pulled in fifth year and regretted Remus walking out three months ago.

Remus was completely still, so still that Sirius wasn’t sure that he was still breathing, thought that maybe Remus had turned into a statue, and he knew that this time he’d completely fucked everything up.

“I’m sor-” he began, truly meaning it this time, but Remus interrupted him.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.” Every word was enunciated perfectly, a completely calm and even tone and Sirius knew he’d entered the danger zone. He’d only seen Remus completely lose his temper a handful of times, but he knew how badly he’d fucked up if he’d made Remus lose it now.

“Remus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I just-”

“I DON’T CARE! I DON’T CARE IF YOU MEANT IT OR YOU DIDN’T! I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU! I ONLY CARE THAT YOU GET OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” Remus’ rage was incandescent; he wasn’t much taller than Sirius, but it felt like he towered above him right now, his beautiful hands clenched in white fists at his sides. A mug shattered in the sink, and Sirius could feel Remus’ magic, huge and wild, pulsing out. If he was Padfoot and Remus was Moony, he’d roll over and show his belly, tail tucked between his legs in apology and deference, but they’re not Padfoot and Moony, might not ever be Padfoot and Moony again.

Sirius did the only thing he could think to do and kissed Remus, poured his soul into the kiss, hoping that it wouldn’t be their last. It was not a nice kiss; it was months of anxiety and frustration, loneliness and anger. So much anger, spilling out of both of them, but Sirius felt relieved when Remus pulled roughly at his hair in response to Sirius biting down particularly hard on his lip. He let Remus take charge of the kiss, let Remus press him against the counter, the edge biting into his ass. Their teeth clacked; it was nothing like the soft kiss they had shared at the table earlier that had made him feel so cared for, but Sirius knew he was an asshole and he didn’t deserve to be treated as if he was something precious. He thought it might be fucked up, but he relished how demanding Remus’ mouth was, and couldn’t help the whine that escaped his mouth when Remus ducked his head under Sirius’ jaw to press his teeth on the tender skin of his neck. Remus’ stubble rasped against Sirius’ cheek when he came back up to reclaim Sirius’ mouth, and Sirius found the hem of Remus’ sweater, pushed his hands to the warm skin underneath.

Remus pushed him towards the bedroom, and Sirius eagerly complied. Sirius might be bad with words, but he knew he was good at this, knew they were always good together. Soon, they were in bed, Sirius spread out in penitence. It was rough, but they’d had rougher before and Sirius didn’t mind, needed Moony as close as possible. Sirius buried his face in the sheets as he came, took perverse pleasure in wrecking Remus’ bed. Remus followed quickly after, and Sirius rolled over to face him. He searched Remus’ face, but it was inscrutable. Finally, Remus took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“You have to sleep in the wet spot,” he informed Sirius, somehow maintaining a straight face. Sirius considered grumbling, but it required too much effort when he just wanted to revel in being with Remus. He scooted over slightly, making room for Moony to get comfy, then fumbled in his trouser pocket for his wand and cast a quick _scourgify_ over them and the bed. The sheets were still damp, but less sticky, and Sirius settled his limbs around Remus, content with the warm skin of Remus’ back pressed to his chest. They laid quietly for awhile, both unwilling to break the tentative peace they had made. 

Finally, “I really am sorry, Remus.”

“I know.”

It wasn’t forgiveness, but Remus pushed back against Sirius slightly, let Sirius tighten his arms around him and it was enough. Sirius felt his body relax as he listened to Remus’ breaths become slow and even, the blessed sleep of the recently shagged; he buried his nose in the warm skin of Remus’ neck, the place where Remus smelled the most like Remus.

Sirius shut his eyes, tried to ignore the negative thoughts that crept in — the doubts and fears, the “what if’s.” Despite his efforts, Peter’s voice echoed in his mind, pointing out that there’ve been too many coincidences to write off, too many Order members that had gone missing or turned up dead when Remus was “away on business.” The dismembered bits of Benjy Fenwick. The mass murder of the McKinnon family. Sirius knew he couldn’t ignore it forever, worried it would eventually be Peter or himself, or worst of all, James and Lily that would disappear next while Remus was away. The thought of Remus betraying them all turned his stomach, so Sirius forced himself to push it all away and focused instead on counting the freckles on Remus’ shoulder. When he ran out of freckles, he disentangled himself gently, and left Remus sleeping peacefully in a sliver of moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! [Find me on tumblr @kittycargo](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kittycargo/blog/kittycargo)


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